Like so many folks nowadays, I find myself longing to spread my wings and fly out into a vast world of discovery and adventure. In my own reality, I’ve been a nomadic spirit for as long as I can remember, so it’s nothing new to me.
Back when I was young, before school-age, I would pretend I was trekking through a jungle with the natives of some far-away land. I loved to climb trees, swing upside down, swim, flip and dive…forwards and backwards, from any high-dive I encountered. I look back on that little girl with the adventurous spirit, and I can see where she has been lost many times along the way of this journey that is my life.
Even now…as I sit writing this, I long to jump in my old VW ‘Adventure’ Van, and bump on down the road a-piece…to where ever we choose to set-up camp for the night…a week…a month. The only thing keeping us rooted here–like the papaya tree in my garden–is our lack of financial freedom. We’re working on it, but we’re not there…yet! : /
Like the tropical beauty of that papaya tree–which must’ve been a gift from Mother Earth, since I cannot take credit for its sowing–spreading its shallow roots…fruiting where it grows, I find myself blooming where ever I am planted. Though, unlike the papaya tree, I am not content to be firmly rooted in this spot forever…or ’til the end of my days.
I look back on our wandering days with pure happiness and the fondest of memories. That is the only time in my life that I can honestly say I was where I wanted to be. I was happy. I was everywhere the wind blew us, and the winding road led us. I was freer than I’ve ever been since…or before.
Such freedom was our goal five years ago when we sold it all…moved out of our lovely rock house (that we were merely renting), put all of our keepsakes in storage, and headed on down the road…bound for nowhere in particular at the time.
Since then, we’ve moved around like a band of gipsies (hence the nickname ‘Gypsy‘ Vin Rose, given to us by friends and folks we met in our travels (Vin Rose being our daughter’s middle name)), as I believe we are all gypsies at heart. We first ventured out in our home state; to the Guadalupe River, camping in our old girl ‘Peniki’. See VW Road Trip to New Braunfels.
We’ve traversed miles and miles…and miles in our classic hippie bus — living, loving, and laughing in our Peniki VW Campervan. Through many states…adventuring down to Key West and back again; staying near-a-month in paradise. Traipsing through Louisiana’s swampy bayous and national forests; smelling some of the freshest air I’ve ever smelled. –Ever…!
Playing on the white sandy beaches of the Mississippi gulf shores, and surviving the remains of a water spout come-ashore while camping at Buccaneer Park. Riding bikes on Dauphin Island in Alabama; witnessing history in the old forts that survived to tell a tale. Passing through Florabama; ecstatic to know we were on the same soil where Jimmy Buffett had his One Love One Ocean concert…following the big oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. We wanted to stop, but we were bound for the next camping spot. I wish now…we had stayed awhile; had a bite to eat or something.
So many places…we ventured for most of that year. It made selling our stuff, material possessions, so much-more worth it when we were out there on the road, giving in to Wanderlust. Unlike the papaya tree –even though I am forever grateful to Mother Earth for such a Blessing– this is not my last stop…if I have anything to do with it.
I long to feel the wind in my locs, as we bump down the road, closer…closer, but further and further still. So far from where this little suburban girl pretended to trek through a foreign jungle, yet so much closer to our next great adventure. I’ll be sure to pack plenty of papaya before I go.
*Be true to yourself…and set your spirit free*
Morning of Day 2 at R Place Campground
He had to be at least 15 feet long
Rocky Springs Campground, Miss
Off the Grid…In a VW Westfalia Campervan
Peniki’s Glamping Dress Rehearsal the night before our ‘almost’ trip
Cotton fields a the end of a long day on the road
Bed Head Mornin’
Florida Gulf Bridge
Home on the Beach — Galveston Island